Running out of magic…

This is the first time I’m writing & sharing pretty much live in the moment. As I’ve got some sweltering downtime to kill in a little Mexican town…

Let me take you back two nights ago, I am just about to land into Los mochis, a coastal plain town in the North of Mexico and Sinaloa region en-route to my UTMB race in Chihuahua - Famous for the legendary Rarámuri long distance runners & the little yappy dogs.

The lights have already dimmed in the cabin for our descent. I have a window seat, so I’m watching the stars get further away as we get closer to the ground.

The airport is small; there are none of the normal bells and whistles, like lights before you hit the runway.

Possibly why as we come to touch down, metres away from the ground, engines kick in and the plane ascends back into the sky.

An anxiety first kicks in…. ‘Why?’

We climb, start to turn at a steeeeep angle.

I understand about every 10th word of Spanish from the announcement that comes through. I hear “normal” said ALOT. Can’t work out if that’s reassuring or not.

We come back around, and we go again. Descend. This time the anxiety on landing is slightly higher for obvious reasons.

But we do land. people clap. Probably out of thanks we didn’t do another pass and didn’t die. Who knows. I never will. I didn’t clap; I wanted to reserve my judgement of the why before I gave that sort of praise.

Is this a sign of things to come here in Sinaloa?

Los Mochis airport is teeny tiny. I whizz through security (virtually isn’t any) and pickup my bag from the one belt.

Find the taxi hole in the wall (No buses running at this time) and mumble my way through a sentence of where I am going to in broken Spanish to the lady in the hole.  

Hand over my money and get my little ticket. I hold on to this ticket and immediately send the info. over to my parents – I have a subconscious kicking in here, I have read and looked at on government info. about late night car rides in this part of Mexico. whether that info. is reality or not, remains to be.

However, flat capped Gabriel leads me to his car.

He and I have a disjointed hour-and-a-half conversation in Spanish, where my thoughts of security were turned down to a bubble rather than a boil.

 First stop (which did jump the heart rate a little, because you never know), he buys one cigarette as a treat for the return journey home. In between that and him urinating what felt like the middle of a pitch-black highway we make our way towards my destination.

Traditional Mexican music plays through the taxi. It smells a little like sick that’s been covered up with gone off Febreeze. However, the steady movement, tinge of latin music in my ears and maybe even the bad cocktail of smells has me nodding off.  

I awake now and again by a speedbump or a swerve – Got to give it to him, even without streetlights, Gabriel knew almost every pothole.

En-route he also rang his ‘amor’ to let her know we had a long drive ahead (maybe my Spanish isn’t too bad after all, I can eavesdrop a little now).  How did I know it was his love? He’d named her ‘amor’ in his phone – Gabriel’s cute.

He told me I was going to be the last trip of the day and because it was a long one he wasn’t expecting, with an hour-and-a-half drive back home from dropping me off, he could take the next morning off.

With a little ciggy in his pocket as a nice little treat for the return home, he was a happy man.

We pull through a sleepy town, get to my hotel. Even in the dark you can see the yellow and blue of the building. Looks great.

I ring the buzzer and a groggy me and a groggy receptionist say hola, the rest is a bit blurry as I stumble behind him under lots of exposed wooden beams, through archways and tiled floors to my bed – fall and pass out.

And so, I wake up in the morning in El Fuerte, a sleepy little Mexican town – one of 177 government designated Pueblos Mágicos (magical towns).

I wander around and am overly excited about colourful bits of paper fluttering in the hot sun, creating shadows on the floor –traditional Mexican bunting really gets me.

The central plaza is muy bonita and I make my way to a mirador, little museum and the public civic offices, just because it looks nice. I get a few funny looks, but also some smiles and one guy shows me a little lookout with a good view of the plaza.

But the brazing heat gets to me. I am sweating buckets. It’s 34 degrees C, but a feels like 37 – 34 was MORE than enough thanks!

So, I head back to hotel El Fuerte for shade.

I read and sleep outside in a little courtyard. I woke from a deep sleep in that melting sun lying next to by what can’t really be described as a pool, but a hole with water in it dressed very beautifully.

Later that night, something special, when I say something special, I mean kinda nice and cheesy – What do you do when you want to immerse, pay homage and are quite bored?….

Go visit Zorro’s birthplace of course.

Which is also conveniently 150 metres from my hotel. Which also conveniently has a cheesy zorro show on (when enough people turn up).

  So I got to meet Zorro and got to dance with Zorro’s lady - thank god for those salsa lessons in Guatemala.

Fully hydrated from the bebida sin alcohol (none for me. I have a big race to run in a few days remember). I stroll the 2 minutes to my yellow and blue hotel.

As soon as I step through the door. The guy at reception tells me some soul-destroying news…

He has heard the train, the ‘Chepe express’ I was due to get and the only direct route to the mountain town of Creel where I was staying for my race. might be cancelled.

So, recap…

I am in sleepy magic town. Which is magically in the middle of nowhere(ish) I kind of exhausted what to see, in a day.

I am 2 hours from the airport. Which has both limited flights and transport to it.

There is one direct route to get me to my race and that has been cancelled.

Breathe deep.

As I am breathing deep, I see two other people looking slightly concerned.  

The only other two people in this gigante hotel. Julie and John. Not only were they getting the train, they are supposed to be running the same race as me too.

Serendipity.

We spend hours looking for solutions and none are forthcoming. We even look at private airfields.

So, to say the least a bit dejected and very tired. I turn in ready to decide tomorrow – There was no option tonight.

I wake up around 5am, not able to sleep. More research. More logistics to investigate.

The only real viable option I can find involves a bus, two flights, another bus then another bus - which would be cutting it fine to make the race, hoping also every part of the puzzle didn’t get cancelled or delayed even slightly and that’s on top of what would be a 3:30am wake up to get set for the race AND an extra £800!

I’m not sure my Run with the Rarámuri is meant to be. Running out of options.

I’ve booked the next flight I could to Guadalajara, in order to decide what to do next.

Can I still make the race??? At least I am giving myself the best shot being in a bigger city and hub.

Further to this and adding insult to injury, the place I was supposed to be renting in San Pancho for my volunteering just messaged to say that they could no longer rent out as they took some more lucrative bookings - wonderful.

So I am simultaneously writing, alongside trying to find somewhere to stay for the next few months.

Anyway, here I am, writing this in what doesn’t feel totally magical anymore – but another story to add to the pile, with I am sure the charm of this place to remain and the angst disappearing over time.

Am I confident something will work out? Yes.

Am I confident it will be my first plan? No.

Just like the pilot, pulled up to go back around - Control the controllable.

I’ll let you know how it all goes…..

So much serendipity, it can’t be luck

Serendipity has a funny way of circumventing my world, as long as I put myself in the right places and embrace letting it in.

    So, I am at Guatemala airport and trying to make the journey to Pisa, via Madrid, to get to Jack & Brooke’s wedding, where I am best man.

I’m on a standby ticket - I don’t manage to get on that flight. Nor the next one. So I end up in a hotel close to the airport.

Irony or serendipity moment number one…

I get to the hotel tired and slightly frustrated and head to the gym, which has a sweeping view of Guatemala (serendipity), but mainly of the runway (irony).

I watch plane after plane lift into the sky while sweat runs down my forehead and strikes of lightning pierce the distance behind the city.

Greg — essentially my UK-based logistician and best amigo and I come up with a plan.

Flights out of Guatemala are crazy full. So aim is get to Miami. It’s a big hub.

I get to the US relatively painlessly. Albeit on a 3am wake-up and about 25 hours after I stepped out the door and onto a boat on Lake Atitlán, Guatemala.

Even from Miami, though, the direct flights to Italy and Madrid aren’t looking good.

Heathrow is the next big terminal of choice.

Serendipity moment number two…

I get to Heathrow and message my pal Whitey. He and Kerry can put me up for the night. They always come through.

Meaning we also get a long-overdue pint of Guinness and a catch-up together.

Serendipity moment number three…

I message Kat — the great neighbour I’ve mentioned before to see if she’s home in Battersea.

She’s not, but she drives back early from Dorset. We run, eat curry and play Monopoly Deal. A staple tradition of ours.

My London stint not only bridges the gap between Latin America and the wedding, it gives me a surprise, unplanned and wonderful stop to see pals.

Serendipity number four…

I finally get on the plane from Heathrow to Pisa.

I am going to make the wedding.

Also on the same flight: the bride and groom.The wedding celebrations can begin.

Due to the late booking, I also get the chance to stay in a nunnery in the heart of Pisa. Now, if that’s not immersing yourself in authentic culture, I’m not sure what is.

The wedding is incredible.

We play tennis the morning of, which, given the amount of time Jack and I have spent together on a court over the years, feels fitting.

The nerves are calm. It’s a nice moment to share the court with Jack and his pals.

Watching Brooke and Jack say their vows in the sweltering heat of a Tuscan villa is a beautiful sight AND an emotional one.

Then I stand up to give my speech. My nerves are racing at this point. Calm tennis long forgotten.

Serendipity number five…

I’m at this wedding because my ex was good mates with Brooke.

That’s how Jack and I ended up striking up a great friendship, which, years later, somehow leads to me standing in Tuscany as his best man.

Funny how life pans out.

SO, made it to the wedding. Got to see two wonderful people get married. Did my duties as best man.

Afterwards, I have a little time to run some mountains in Lucca, get to Florence, catch up with Sam — one of the chicos crew from Huayhuash in Peru, then welcome Mum and Dad to Italy.

Serendipity number six…

Having a pitstop in Europe means that after seven and a bit months of not seeing my parents, we get to have a holiday together in Florence.

Eat good food. Tell crappy jokes. Potter around the city. Catch up.

Nothing groundbreaking. Just that really nice cosy feeling.

Then it’s time to make my way over to LA.

Serendipity number seven.

My logistician Greg comes up trumps again and although I’m on standby, I manage to get two pretty comfy business-class flights all the way to LA.

 Then I message Stevie.

She has been colluding for a while to surprise Rich for his birthday.

I land at LAX and a very heavily pregnant Stevie picks me up — what a saint.

I get to the house and cover the peephole.

Rich tentatively opens the door because he thinks he might be getting burgled.

I get it. We are in LA. I am covering the peephole.

But instead of dropping me with a right hook, we embrace with a right big hug.

One by one, Joe and Greg turn up too.

Serendipity number eight…

We’ve now known each other for at minimum 19 years.

We’ve seen almost every version of life together. It feels good to get back around a table, take the piss out of each other and celebrate the first of us turning 40.

And I think here lies a small microcosm of serendipity.

Long-standing friendships.

New friendships from travel.

Deep friendships born out of old relationships.

Connecting with family.

Taking opportunities that appear.

Maybe even the missed flights and plans that go completely to shit.

I don’t think there’s a big story in this one. No grand lesson from the road.

Just a reminder that the art of connection is alive and well.

And that perhaps serendipity isn’t entirely Luck ( partly why it’s my least favourite word in the dictionary).

Put yourself in places. Say yes. Message the mate. Take the detour. Get on the standby flight.

Sometimes you’ll end up stuck in an airport hotel watching the planes you didn’t get on take off.

But sometimes you’ll end up around a table with people you love, wondering how it all managed to work out.

How the F did I go from UK garage to Guatemala…

I have some very happy memories of driving my mum’s Renault 5, which I adopted as my own car at 17, listening to UK garage on the tinny speakers with pals crammed into that little shell of a car.

 Now, If you said that young UK garage loving, cheeky, kicked out of lessons, football playing, bike riding Dan he would be shaking his hips learning salsa with a local called Gloria in Guatemala at 39. I am confident he wouldn’t believe you.

   He would also have to look at a map as to where Guatemala was.

I have vague recollections of geography lessons where we were taught about volcanoes - they were a piece of textbook fiction. Just a picture on a page.

So, very wild that I was sitting in a mist on a late afternoon a few weeks ago, not being able to see In front of my face. Battered by wind for an hour and a half waiting on the clouds to clear. And clear they did.

Then orange lava spewing in front of my eyes– another ‘hahaha moment’.

     Not fiction or a photo in a textbook. Fact, hundreds of yards in front of me.

It’s a surreal existence sometimes - to watch Volcano Fuego erupt from mere hundreds of yards away and still be the guy who sometimes wants to hide behind the sofa like he did when he was 5.

   Here I am on top of a volcano, after jumping on a rickety speed boat to cross a lake, speaking a little Spanish that I’ve been learning, to get to a little village in Latin America.

Volcan Fuego

   I am picking up trinkets of memories, experiences and a few tangible skills on route. Some of which might make me more flexible and able to say yes in however the next chapter reads.

Well, when you put it like that, what an adventure. What a journey from behind cushions to spewing lava.

15-year-old me didn’t know what was in store. 21, 25, 30, 34 could never have guessed or anticipated some of this either.

Striding… Promotions, Finding Love, being at peace

Stepping… Hike clubs, learning Spanish, Getting on the plane

Sliding … Anxiety, heartbreak, injuries

Reminding myself a slide is a stride on the other side of the world. I wish I learnt to recognise this more in the past. But then again, I probably wasn’t ready.  

   I now know I can dance salsa in Guatemala, I can climb volcanoes, I can miss people and not regret, I can also still turn up those garage tunes and feel that wonderful nostalgia surge through my ears and mind.

    Who knows what’s next, but I know one thing for sure, I am not going to be 100% ready – but I am going to go anyway.  

When we were young

When we were little, a lot of our holidays were in tents.

I remember an inflatable second hand tent, I don’t think that one even made it through the back garden test.

There was also this used canvas-behemoth with bedrooms that also filled up most of the back of the car, my spot riding in the boot of the cavalier was taken up - that tent was epic.

Then I remember when we got a brand new one, a purple dome thingy that took dad “30 seconds” to put up. I remember it going up - one dome, 5 people.

Noodles cooked over a gas stove. Wales and other places I can’t geographically remember felt like distant lands. We played tennis over home made nets, made jokes, played cards within touching distance of beaches and fields. We laughed, argued, got chilly, got rained on, got sunned on and had great times.

Maybe why I love the outdoors is that both mum and dad do too, they got us outside. Car journeys of listening to the eagles or best of Lynyrd skynyrd or the famous five on a cassette are a far cry from my travels and adventures today.

But the same is true. I go in search for the same ingredients - nature, wildlife, a different environment and awesome people to spend it with.

So much simplicity, almost a question of asking how you bottle it? But I don’t think we need to, because you really can lift the lid whenever you need to….

What do the rooms look like in your house?

Since I’ve been away I’ve been told “you sound relaxed” a lot, from friends and family. Most recently my vodcast co host Tristan over a voice note.

For 39 years the construction team around me and I, have been building a casa where I come up with my best ideas, rest and eat to feed my soul. This house is neatly stored in my head.

The construction team of family and friends have filled it with learning, laughs and lulllabies. There are others that are no longer part of the team, some leaving big holes in walls and leaky plumbing.

Travelling over the last 7 months has given me a lot of time to think, a lovely element of this experiment and adventure - another fulfilling element has been the feeling of to not be constricted by time, allowing….

Interesting connections. new views. Creating solutions.jumping waterfalls. Cervezas and smiles. Huge jet lag. sickness. lonely nights. Getting lost.

It really has been another moment for building and a lot of the construction solo. Understanding how to balance more and sometimes being calm in a storm.

Whilst not always the case, but In building my life and this opportunity, I’m not necessarily having to chase ‘basic needs’ at this moment in time. I whole heartedly appreciate that privelege.

The big question that keeps cropping up with all this thinking space and importance of my house - When has and does my nervous system feel most at peace? Which doesn’t always mean comfort, but calm in chaos or confusion.

Which is why I will continue to build, knock down and reconstruct parts of this house in my head to find that peace.

I still have clutter in my loft that I need to pack and take to the rubbish tip. I have a garden of serenity that is sometimes punctured by a thunderstorm.

Process is part of the peace, to help with internal and external changes.

As the building work continues, it’s been great to sit on the sofa and put my feet up for a little bit now & then.

You’ll never know. What you never know

You sit alone. 

Knowing if you go and chat you will probably be accepted.

But you don’t. You sit. 

The thing is you are not sure you want to talk. Not sure you can. 

But, you are not sure you want to be alone. 

And.

Don’t want to break down the wall & build the bridge.

Because, what happens if you are stuck AND you are already mildly content by yourself. 

BUT what happens if it’s great. And the contentness grows. Things might flourish. They just might. 

Still you sit. Have a coffee. Eat a biscuit. Stare at a conference room, a bar, a hostel, a meeting room. One more biscuit. 

Are you content? Or are you imagining the worst-case scenario? Both maybe…

What can be powerful is the quiet and the still. 

Sitting on my favourite beach. A quiet space in the office. Going for a run. A favourite sun spot on my face.  

Sometimes it can be frustrating to want THE answer. Personally, I can be frustrated by that, but I also know i’ve got to take responsibility. 

I’ve had ALOT of ‘another biscuits’ in my time, procrastinated.

It’s not the decision that is the problem; it’s often the procrastination – I rarely get myself to 100% of the right answer. 

Just succumb. One way or another. Whether from heart or head, Make a decision. 

It’s just stuff. Make the decision, if it hits 100%, wonderful.  If it doesn’t, there is always another biscuit. 

Surely that’s why we are here?

Two electric wires touch create an energy

Walking through a forest, wind brushing leaves

The satisfying click of a jigsaw puzzle piece 

Moment you ask a curious question & get a thoughtful answer 

A kiss that is electrifying and passionate 

A kiss that goes on both cheeks and is comforting  

Meeting someone early on in your career. Someone to rant, celebrate and develop with. The understanding why you got up at 4am. Opening a store. Give a team brief. Lead. Sign health & safety documents. Review resource numbers. Review financial numbers. Walk the store. Help fill the store. Go again. A kindred moment in time. 

Or the person you share countless gigs, nights out, rum & cokes and slow roasted Sunday dinners. Regurgitate the American office until you're sick. Then an unequivocal understanding and loyalty, because that person has seen you rolling around on the floor on a Monday night thinking you are Jim Morrison. 

A hug. A real heartfelt hug, a moment you needed to let a tear drip down because life felt overwhelming. A calming squeeze and a reassuring word in your ear. The trust to keep it between you. 

Absurd ones like wearing a fez & making stupid jokes. Singing to Queen in my beat up Renault 5. Peeing out of bedroom windows. Singing the lord is my sheperd at the hawthorns.

And the more fleeting ones of recent times. Just an afternoon exploring Lima, coastlines, markets, ramen and football. Riding the back of a motorbike down from a monastery. Practicing Indonesian synonyms in a bar in bukit luwang. 

Like two wires creating a circuit, so do we, as humans. Connections click into place and an energy flows – sometimes fleeting & fast. Sometimes lifelong. But all memorable.

I just like human connection. 

Why am I not totally excited?

My pals - France

Not sure if it was self imposed indulgence in the wine region, Spending time with friends and having people around me after 6 months of travelling, Another journey that I had done very little to no planning for Or that I was on a standby ticket and didn’t even know if I was just about to get on my flight to Lima.

But the nerves were real.

I’m on a plane from Geneva to Lima, Peru via Madrid, watching Leo and Lou. A great Spanish film about a couple of lost souls.

I’m scared again. I don’t know Spanish. I don’t completely know where I’m going. I don’t completely know why I’m going. Fear. Fear is real.

Machu pichu. Trail running. Great food. Great music. New culture. Why am I not totally excited?

Having just come from seeing friends. It made me enjoy them more. It made me scared that I was missing something, most came with partners, kids, I watched two of them getting married. All the societal things of ‘norm’ reinforced.

However, it also reinforced that I love jumping in a pool with them, acting like we were kids.

I watched that Spanish film Leo and Lou on the plane from Madrid to Lima, it made me feel stuff. I welled up.

But you know what. I’m two days in and I still feel a bit fragile, but….

I took a Spanish lesson

Went on a food tour with a local and two travellers (one of who was 18, blew my mind he was solo travelling at that age)

Went for a big run on the coastline in a new continent, in a new city and a new coastline.

Started chatting to a guy about his camera and then to a girl sitting on her own, we all went for a walk, lunch, watched the England game and then dinner together.

Bar in Barranco, Lima, Peru

So yes I miss my friends. I still feel fragile. But your emotions can sometimes rest in a fractional second of taking a breath or someone having a chat with you.

That pause. That breath. Knowing fragility will & can end and the joy will & can come.

Dan Round

Mis-tea monks, my mind & building better days

Some days are good days. Some are bad days and sometimes days are just a bit meh.

In a hostel, Ella, Sri Lanka. I met a warm funny group of people. Laura and Gihan who ran the hostel. Maseeh. Silvia. Annalisa. Leila. Ana. Jess. Felix. Mads and others travelling through. Meditations, karaoke, rude jokes, family meals, hikes. dee-licous tea. Positive energy.

Ella, Sri Lanka - May 2026

Surrounding yourself with more of the happier people in your life always makes days better AND I’ve seen this accelerated whilst travelling.

I definitely came away from a quieter previous week in the surf spot Aragon bay, ready to give off good energy to meet people. But I’ve got to admit not just in the hostel world and outside of this travel bubble i’m currently in - that energy isn’t always reciprocated. And I have a couple of schools of thought on that;

1)Try again, persevere

or

2)Stop, just call it meh

Sometimes it’s out of your control. Move on. Physically. Emotionally.

The letting go has occasionally plagued me. Like impostor syndrome. regret. An E-mail. Relationships. Emotions. Thoughts. You name it. Sometimes it feels well out of my control.

Well on that same trip in Ella, in the cloudy, mis-tea mountains. I meditated and had a cuppa tea with a monk. How very worldly of me I know. But we talked at length about attachment. He has little to no attachment to things or people.

But I do and I want to. Whilst some of my feelings I can control, others still hit home.

So in a roundabout way. Yes giving energy out, is likely to be much more the vibe I receive. But, I’m quite happy taking the risk and having to get a little hurt sometimes when I don’t align with someone.

Because in order to get the belly laughs from the likes of Maseeh (that dude from the hostel cracked me up), the vibey karaoke or the deep chat - you’ve got to encounter some of the other stuff.

The monk though did have a point. That’s where beans, bricks and beaches has helped me. Because knowing sometimes it’s all just stuff, that you can build or break walls down in your head and that you can find a piece of sand to sit and calm - Great tools to stay present with positive energy.

Infact that monk and I are now connected on whatsapp, so maybe I’ll message and ask him his thought on that paragraph above?

Mahamevnawa Buddhist Monastery - May 2026

6/ The hum, the needle and the reflective sting

Not having a mortgage or a house, just a big backpack, no significant other or kids, is giving me a different level of flexibility that feels freeing ( and a little frightening occasionally).. I take full accountability for this decision whilst I travel.

A lot of different decisions lead me down a path to create flexibility on these terms, my terms. Including some big dollops of gratitude for situations that go your way and some even bigger dollops of what you gave up or taking a certain decision.

There are some broad ways that our worlds fall into a specific hum. A vibration that means the world goes round, the way it always has. Well, there is also an age-old adage that says ‘If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always got’

As I sit writing this from a balcony in Ella, Sri Lanka. Surrounded by trees, mountains and a lot of spiritual energy from the Buddhist monasteries that sit tucked away in the undergrowth and hillsides. I am reminded that I have not always done, what I always did, and I often don ‘t get what I’ve always got. I try and remember and keep the good bits, learn from mistakes and others, my tears and frustration still show there is constant learning to be had. I use them mindful bricks to try and grow, all play a part in the story.  

       Questioning however also means, a lot of the time you can feel out of sync. The first paragraph is very objective. But does it give subjective Joy? Maybe, maybe not.

As lots of my friends settle into family units, with partners and children – I am constantly reminded of the social pressure and norms that exist around us. Those that exist in tradition, books, film, music, you name it.

But as I constantly return to beans, bricks and beaches in my head and settle into this year of space to think, I am also reminded that the hum can shift and be beautiful.

I gave up my weekends and Christmases to try and get ahead at work. I balanced that with Monday nights out with my pal Whitey who also worked in retail. I took responsibility for self-learning and patience whilst trying to develop as a human and leader. I cemented my want to not have children, a conscious decision, I was consistently told even  by close friends ‘of course you want kids’ – eye roll. I watched as friends went on holidays and parties that I had to miss out on. I looked in the mirror when I bought my first house, when I got promoted, helped transform businesses, ran my first marathon – the list goes on.

I have been digging deep for a long time now on purpose, on purpose. Personal and professional.

So it really is liberating not knowing what day of the week it is, having some real freedom.

But this is a constant balance, as we all have bills to pay, passions to enjoy, time to fill – no one right way is correct and with what feels like an ever-growing pace of change the world at times feels unjust, that balance can feel even more un-harmonious.

I have often felt the record needle skipped for me and for others it kept spinning. Sometimes the scratch takes you forward and sometimes back. But the record keeps spinning and so does the hum.

Having time to blow on the record, that was just a speck of dust getting in the way – has allowed me to listen to myself. Reflect on memories, romanticise futures, but most importantly enjoy the moment for what it is.

I realised this is not a new thing. I was doing this stuff at home but not giving it the thought and I was spending way more time in the past and future, aligning my hums to others that have the ‘right lives, at the right time’.  But maybe just not the one I want to lead.

I am reminded the more I digest different cultures both from travellers and locals. The more I sink into the memories I have of home. The more I sit in the present.

The more I find a love to take accountability in the moment, to be curious, present and act.

5/ Poor me : Jungle Fever

Water from the river is crashing. Animal sounds are blaring like alarms. Rustles inches from your face keep you awake.

Then hallucinations start. Heat and sweat pours from your body. Blood feels like it’s filling your head. Pain in the stomach. Reach for the head lamp, run to the jungle toilet. Which is, well, the jungle.

Squat, which in itself is difficult as your exhaustion has risen.

Fireflies flitting in the night are no longer fun fire shows, but dancing reminders you are in the depth of a jungle. Home is a million miles away,

Headlamp glows into the abyss of intertwining vines as far as the beam can reach.

You sip dregs of your water. Douse yourself. Trying to put out the inferno ripping through your body.

But you do. Deal with it. It doesn’t pass in the night. Nor the morning. You cut a 5 day trek down to 3, to head back to civilization.

Keep a brave face, remember the Buddhist teachings of pain, just smile.

Legs are heavy, wading through the river feels heavier today. You make moments to still appreciate the butterflies and the trees.

Realistically, I’ve been to the loo in a lot of places having IBS. But probably none as remote or picturesque as the Sumatran jungle.

Here, really is where the thought lies.

There are limited opportunities to be wild with nature, more and more these days. Even more rare is to see orangutans in the wild, on top of that add a 4 week old baby orangutan, great people and an incredibly unique experience.

You can say, oh poor me. That was a crap (literally) experience or enjoy it for what it was and add that to a growing number of stories that is the rich tapestry of your life.

Sure I could stay home on my sofa.

Sure I could choose the easier options.

Sure I could avoid the rivers, the sickness, the uncertainty.

But I want more stories read out at my funeral.

around a campfire wahyu my guide and I on that trek had some great conversations and a laugh. We talked about music and gigs, I shared what I had seen. Then he shared what gigs he’d been to… Coldplay, Robbie Williams, oasis… I was amazed. “Where did you see them” I asked.

“You ever been to YouTube” was his reply

4/ Throwing around bravery

Sitting in a hostel in Ha Giang, Vietnam.

Nerves. Butterflies in my belly.Building work adjacent, breaking the air and my concentration. Distracting me slightly (thankfully).

Motorbikes lined up for an adventure. Anticipation. Nerves. Fear. Excitement.

I’ve already written about management of expectations; I’m trying on this trip to limit what I see and know about places. I want the surprise factor and to create more of a sense of awe.

However, it was difficult not to read about the sad passing of Orla Wates on the Ha Giang loop. Not only did this give a moment of pause for reflection on how her family must be feeling, but also how short life can be and the weight of making certain choices.

As I’m sure most would, I took all the right precautions. Double-checked my insurance policy. Went with the safest company I could find. Checked reviews. Asked ChatGPT. Searched Reddit. Spoke to people.

So, with the growing pang of risk vs reward, my dial was firmly on risk.

This may seem careless given the recent circumstances; however, I am using this year to test my stomach, nerve and appetite for doing the uncomfortable.

I am glad I did.

I met amazing people. Saw incredible views. Jumped in waterfalls. Ate local food. Saw rural Vietnam through a completely different lens.

Now, many people threw the word brave at me before setting off on this journey, which I think reflected more about social norms and expectations than me doing anything wildly brave.

BUT.

Balancing risk and reward. Overcoming butterflies. Feeling culturally uncomfortable can only build a more creative and diverse mindset… right?

I want to take you back almost 20 days from Ha Giang. My stint in Australia and Japan completed. Next flight: Hanoi.

AND it was a shock.

Traffic (the scooters!) Street food. Humidity. Look. Feel. Chaos. Energy.

Dropped off at my hotel. Tried to cross the road — with great difficulty.

A few days later I saw a T-shirt that summed up the road system in Hanoi:

“Green is for go. Amber is for go. Red is for go.”

The road system wasn’t the only thing I found discombobulating.

As someone with IBS, travelling itself is already anxiety-inducing. Pile on top a street food scene that is so vastly different from my UK trained brain, it felt intimidating initially.

The first day and a half food…Pringles. Chocolate bars. Biscuits. Fruit (not pre-prepared… oh no).

Then I got over myself. The system I was questioning because of what I know back home, have been working long long long long before my mind and judgement questioned.

BECAUSE IT WORKS

What I thought was chaos is vibrant energy that works. Beeps of vehicles. Speakers from the snack trucks. Weaving of mopeds.

Little stools. Gas cookers in alleyways. Steaming hot pho on every corner. The food scene works.

I ate Banh mi from the hotspots. Pho. Little sweet prawns. Hot pot. Spring rolls. Crab fresh on Lan ha bay.Pâté. Steak. Some kind of gravy situation.Even where Barack Obama and Anthony Bourdain ate (note — not necessarily my food highlights) But overcoming that kind of anxiety was a huge win for me. A brave one in my world.

SO I don’t really want to throw around the word bravery. It should be kept for bigger purposes — soldiers, nurses, charity workers and the like.

However, personal context is important. The controllables in your world are important. Having a newfound appreciation for things I can do is nice.

Brave? Maybe not. Risk vs reward? Maybe.

Now, being driven on the back of a motorcycle through Northern Vietnam’s landscape gave me a lot of time to think.

That trip, for my friend and me, cost 22.6 million Vietnamese dong — including the driver’s tip and transport to and from our hotels (an 18-hour round trip). Roughly £630 for a 3-day adventure.

Minimum wage in Ha Giang province is around 3.7 million VND / The average wage is roughly double that — around 7.4 million VND.

Rural farm workers are typically on minimum wage, tourism workers around the average and mining/government roles at the higher end.

So what I spent on that trip really put into perspective difference in earnings and cost of living globally.

I’m no expert, but I broadly understand economics and how it differs across countries.

I also noticed something else - People waking up to beautiful surroundings every day.Communities that felt strong and connected. I met Neam (my driver) and his family — living in a village deep on the Ha Giang loop in Du Gia - They welcomed us warmly, with open arms and curiosity. A different pace of life and different trappings.

So I make no assumptions. No direct comparisons of money to quality of life.

But it did make me stop and think. Throwing around the word bravery feels… interesting.

Tom, our guide, spoke about how tourism over the last ten years has supported a significant number of jobs. We spoke about how locals enjoy the cultural exchange — showing off their Vietnam.

I travelled through Ha Giang, Quan Ba, Lung Tam, Du Gia, Meo Vac, Dong Van and Yen Minh.

Through communities of Tay, Hmong (high in the mountains), and Kinh people.

After my trip, I visited the Precious Heritage Art Gallery in Hoi An — a collection of photos and traditional clothing following an 11-year mission by Réhahn to document all 54 ethnic groups in Vietnam.

It explores the balance between tradition, economic change and a shifting world.

A reminder of balance. Maintaining tradition. Tourism helping and hindering.

It feels to me like risk is required and sometimes bravery too. But it needs to be grounded in a reward that feels worth going after.

Now that… is a personal decision.

3/ The big pivot

"I'm a big believer in winging it. I'm a big believer that you're never going to find the perfect city travel experience or the perfect meal without a constant willingness to experience a bad one” – Anthony Bourdain. 

A bad one you say Anthony…

‘blue regions’ are where residents live significantly longer and healthier lives, often reaching age 100 or older (centenarians) with lower rates of chronic diseases.

A big goal of mine this year is to hit the five recognised blue regions since watching Dan Butteners documentary which talks of;

Plant forward diet.

Natural movement.

Purpose and lifestyle.

Community and connection. 

Following visiting Tokyo, Hakuba, Kyoto in Japan – Okinawa (blue region) was next. Now I’ve been working on a flexible mindset for my travels, virtually nothing is booked more than two weeks out, I’ve also been a little lax on research and using the mantra the best things usually happen when you don’t plan. AND so on that….

I had wrongfully made the assumption that transport around Okinawa would be in parallel to mainland Japan – WRONG. VERY WRONG. 

Landing into Naha, southern Okinawa and albeit a relatively small island, Ogimi the village of centenarians to the North was a good 3 hour drive. First big plan failing… I hadn’t got an international driving license! I realised this when doing minimal forward (ish) planning in Kyoto and I had a semi-melt down… Take a breath, think about the controllable.

BUT, did this mean I wasn’t going to make my blue region vision a possibility? 

As Ross famously shouted in friends “Pivot”. 

I sat down and wrote out those key blue region elements, did some googling, used chat GPT and my brain.  

My pivot plan was born… 

Okinawa food was available all over the island not just ogimi, I found plenty and it pushed me to explore way more in different ways than I would have. Purple potato – good. Sashimi – good. Okinawa noodles – good. Mozuko seaweed with vinegar – good. Mozuko seaweed with kimchi – not so good. But chowing down on the Plant forward diet .

Imagine at 81 you are waking up in the morning, making your way to your Dojo, starting a class off by stretching out better than a insta bali teacher! Well, Okinawa is not only the home of karate itself and Mr Miagi of karate kid fames home town, it also has karate master 10th dan sensei Kakazu, who taught me and coached me for a few days – Even at his ripe age he’s still smashing it - punching, chopping, kicking his way through natural movement. Even those warm up stretches were tough and wonderfully humbling, with more black belts in the room than floorboards. There was also a family vibe, special moment was watching Kuko ( tiny little baby boy), watch his mother give an almighty show on how bloody good at karate she was. Find good people.

                  With Ogimi village off the table. I had to explore, part of the Okinawa prefecture are a group of islands, the kerama islands. What better way to see the real blue region than rural island life. Here I really felt a deep connection with a slower pace of life, eating off the land & sea and observing a passion for the environment – feeling the islands Purpose and lifestyle around necessity. ( I also had the most jaw dropping awe inducing moments, watching humpback whales. That’s for another day and another post.) 

                  So, from mainland Okinawa to Zamami island to Aka island, I got positive vibes. In Naha I joined a group of random people from all over the world including Okinawan locals, with a rain stick in my hand and danced on the street.  Sang karaoke with Miku a bar lady in an empty place ( I did look high and low for a busy one, so I howled some solo renditions of Oasis – Sorry Miku), chatted to Sabrina a journalist from Singapore over a beer, watched a humpback whale jump out the water with sushi our guide. Created my own connection and community.

In my invisible filing cabinet of stuff, I know I can pivot. I’ve done it many times in life and work. But this one felt good, I thought I was nearly ripping apart a big part of my purpose on my travels. 

I found a workaround. a solution. Took a pause. Figured out the controllables. AND pivoted. 

Blue region 1/5. It didn’t go to plan, but it didn’t let down. 

So I never did get to Ogimi village. 

But I think I got a realer look what makes this place special - not just one village but how  people live. I GOT INVOLVED.

It also again gave me time to reflect on my IKIGAI, something I have been drawing on for years. 

Less ticking a box, more exploring ideas. 

P.s. You’ll be happy to know my international driving license is en-route.

Next stop Vietnam…

2/ HaHaHa moments

Just around a month ago, a guy sitting next to me on a plane asked a question that hasn't left my head since “How much of your life are you producing content and how much are you actually living?

Now I am 6 weeks into my sabbatical and if you look at my Instagram, it probably looks like I am having an absolute blast. Which is pretty accurate in the main.

So far, I’ve travelled through 2 countries, 6 cities, rested my head in 9 different places, ascended & descended 4 mountains, celebrated my birthday, wandered with an angled neck & look of awe on countless streets and met a lot of interesting people on the way.

Felix, who was sitting next to me on the plane from Tasmania and I ended up chatting about ‘How much we produce vs how much we are living?’.We were talking about social media at the time, but it stuck in my head.

Although I am not always the most structured person, most of my adult life I have lived in quite a structured world. That world creates a hum and rhythm. Deadlines, measurable progress, feedback or responsibility. Particularly when you lead teams

Then BAM, I’ve chosen to make that all disappear.

No diary. No meetings. No targets. No KPI. Just time andIt’s WONDERFUL but also psychologically disorientating.

A few mornings ago I woke up in Kyoto, Japan with no plan and just wandered out into the day. This is where I noticed something happening again. Something I can only describe as a ‘hahaha moment’a genuinely, slightly manic laugh to myself & sometimes out loud because I can’t help myself.

Like…

The second day of travels walking out on to my brother’s balcony with a coffee, listening to the birds, watching the sunrise and realising this is actually real. ‘Hahaha moment’

Looking out of the plane window over Tasmania realising there’s a whole new island to explore with pals. ‘hahaha moment’

A lock-in at a Tasmanian pub with friends and the owner. ‘hahaha moment’

Sitting on a chairlift going up the mountain in Hakuba with a snowboard strapped to my feet. ‘hahaha moment’

Meeting this cool vibey person In the hostel I was staying at, we listened to a band and danced across a floor painted with the map of Japan ‘hahaha moment’

Watching a buddhist fire festival in Nara park surrounded by hundreds of people witnessing  this epic ceremony ‘hahaha moment’

Moments where I just sit there and laugh because I’m just bloody happy I pushed myself to do this, grateful I had the opportunity and aware I worked hard to get to a point where I could.

The funny thing is, while I am away these moments are coming thicker and faster. But they existed at home too, I think my eyes are just more open to find them now.

Now, as my dad once said, life can’t all be unicorns and fluffy stuff. Realism. Boooooo, but true, so here’s some balance.

I’ve also had some low or weird gut moments.

I’ve walked through Ameyoko market in Tokyo. Surrounded by this Incredible energy, culture. sitting in a izakaya with a beer & trying to converse with a Japanese guy who doesn’t speak English. Eating food from street vendors. A shrine, temples and yet my body is still saying ‘What are you doing?’ ‘am I wasting my time?’ or ‘shouldn’t I be doing something more productive’

My nervous system is still expecting. That structure doesn’t disappear overnight.

OR

The  night before I leave my brothers in Sydney for Japan, where my anxiety sky rocketed.

“What if I don’t meet anyone”

“What if I get lonely”

“How will I even get around”

“Am I actually doing the right thing”

Gut give me a break please. luckily I also had my brother there for that to talk sense into me too, find good people.

My invisible filing cabinet is filling up more, with these moments uncomfortable and hahaha ones. They are all part of the beans, bricks and beaches philosophy - it really is all grounding, growth and gratitude.

So, I’d say I’m still In the quite uncomfortable stage, but as long as the frequent ‘hahaha moments’ keep coming.

I’m here for that.

Safe to say, I’m not coming home early.

note, the above are just a minor selection of lots of ‘hahaha moments’ AND for Steve coogan, if you ever come across this, hahaha is very different to an Alan Partridge ‘aha’ ;) No copyright infringement.

1/ Emptying bins to exploring the JOurneY

17 years ago, I was in Manchester having dropped out of my studies, figuring out what to do. A little lost, embarrassed and feeling like I’d let people down, Including myself. So I jumped into a few jobs - bar jobs, holding a sign for a whole day on Oldham street, to selling tickets in IBIZA. Then I started my first shift at M&S Trafford centre- my first job emptying bins. Fast forward to today - Head of supply chain at B&Q, Founder of a little outdoor collective - ‘Beans, Bricks & Beaches’ and about to step into a 12-month sabbatical to travel, connect & explore.

Navigating life has ups, downs and in betweens. As part of that navigation, I’ve had lots of moments of feeling a little lost. Something I’m now quite accustomed to and positive about, being lost is no bad thing. Recently covid isolation, heartbreak and not quite being where the world expects you to be - continues to teach me - Stay curious, enjoy community and live the JOurneY to find joy.

I have led teams, launched a hike club, ran up mountains, quelled the anxiety of public speaking, seeked help, been the help, had fun and kept stepping outside my comfort zone. What’s helped me has been Leaning on resilience & taking accountability, to find more JOY (You’ll see some stuff keep popping up, for that I am not sorry, joy is one of them)

One of the the things to find more joy has been figuring out how to make connections as I get older and navigating lots of the journey on my own. Embracing my philosophy on life, ‘beans, bricks and beaches - Grounding, growth and gratitude’. making sure that when I got lost, I sought energy to make me feel good, like…

Joining a trail run club ‘MRP or Maverick run Purbeck’ - Tom & JV you legends - some people may never know how it feels when you live alone for someone to take you for a chicken wrap. Why? because you’ve just dived into the sea to cool off post run, can’t get in your car because the electric keys that were in your pocket are now soaked and that means you can’t also get in your home because your keys are in said car, as is your phone. In your head this feels apocalyptic at the time. That chicken wrap felt good in that moment - find good people.

Consistent Tuesday night tennis & a pint of Guinness with my pal Jack - I’ve told him this. But it’s amazing having a mate to just have a hit with, sit down for a pint with and be able to be open up with - find good people.

Testing myself recently at public speaking, sharing vulnerable ideas, being invited to national professional events and making cool connections - find good people.

Picking up my camera again and started shooting stories. It’s actually quite hard to hold yourself to account to do things even ones you love and feel positive vibes about when you’re alone - Find good in yourself.

Now when I say alone I want to be clear alone doesn’t always mean lonely, it sometimes means gloriously flexible. No pressure other than yourself and an ability to do whatever you want! But it does also come with a solo tax - not just a financial one (although it does, It costs the average single person in the UK around 30% more than those in partnerships or families) also a mental one and an accountability pressure on yourself - driving your own energy. The dark days can become very dark and the light ones very bright - Finding bright days are more fun and joyful.

I have also become even more thirsty to search out great moments, great communities, great people and great stories.

AND curiosity is calling me again - this time with travel.

Begining a sabbatical in January ‘26, I’m hoping to see lots of Australia, Asia, the Americas and travel as many of the blue regions as I can ( but who knows, I’m keeping it flexible). So from emptying bins, to feeling lost, transforming teams, to walking in as much green. I’m still curious. Still learning. Still moving forward.

I have a key guiding rule that has stayed with me for along as I can remember… Do the right thing, not the easy thing.